LITMIR.BIZ

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his eyes closed. He would know when she was near. He had long ago schooled himself in the absolute control of his emotions. Until he needed them, until he wanted to act he was relaxed, to an outsider indifferent, even asleep as the russet evening sun pierced the boughs of a mountain ash tree near the doorway to the great hall at Aber and warmed the rusty black of his mantle. In the silence he could hear the chuckling water in the river below as it tumbled over its rocky bed.

      When Rhonwen walked around the corner, he opened his eyes and put out a hand to grasp her wrist.

      ‘Where is she?’

      Rhonwen caught her breath with fear. ‘I left you a message. There was nothing I could do.’

      ‘Where is she?’

      ‘With her father.’ The low sun was shining directly into her eyes.

      ‘You must send her to me.’

      ‘She won’t come.’

      ‘She must.’ He tightened his grip. ‘I have to see her again. I have to have her oath, child though she is.’ His eyes were deep and expressionless like still lake water. ‘I do not want to lose her; the gods, my gods, want her for their own. It must be soon or she will slip from me. And without me, without them, she will not know how to control her visions and will live in torment for the rest of her life.’ He paused. ‘You brought her here to avoid me.’

      Faced with that cool all-seeing gaze, Rhonwen did not dare to deny it. ‘She was so frightened,’ she heard herself pleading. ‘Besides, I could not stop her. She tried to swim … she’s so young – ’

      ‘It’s because she is young that she needs me so much.’ He released her suddenly. ‘She’s too young to understand the powers she has been given. She needs strength and guidance.’

      ‘She doesn’t want to see you again. Please, Lord Einion. Wait a little; just until she is older.’ Rhonwen despised herself for her weakness, but she could not help herself.

      He took a deep breath. ‘That is not possible, my lady. I have to see her again. Now, today. Bring her to me.’

      ‘What if she won’t come?’

      ‘She will come. Tell her that her father has commanded her to visit the hermit of the woods.’ He smiled cynically. ‘Tell her there is a horse for her to see. Tell her there are blackberries to pick. I am sure you can think of something. Bring her to me, Lady Rhonwen. You begged me to see to it that her marriage is annulled, but I will not do that until she has been initiated and blessed. Only after that shall I see that she belongs to no man. Bring her to me – now. I shall wait by the river beyond the village.’

      Rhonwen stared after him. He had not waited for her agreement; he merely turned and walked away from the wall, beneath the gatehouse and down the hill towards the village with its mill and forge and church and the huddle of houses where the harp maker, the silversmith, the potter and the tradesmen and craftsmen lived, side by side with the twenty-four families who farmed the Aber land. He raised his hand in greeting and blessing to the men and women he passed.

      Rhonwen swallowed hard. She did not dare to disobey him.

      V

      Eleyne was playing cats’ cradles with Luned in the window embrasure, where the last of the sunlight lit their entwined hands. In another moment the sun would drop below the mountains and the llys would be in shadow.

      ‘Is it nearly time for supper, Lady Rhonwen?’ Luned asked.

      ‘No, it’s not that late.’ Rhonwen was flustered as she came in. ‘Please, Eleyne, come with me, your father has sent for you!’

      ‘Me too?’ Distracted, Luned let the string slip from her thumb and the intricate net of knots collapsed. Eleyne threw it down. Standing up, she gave Luned a gentle push. ‘No, not you. You’ve got to untie the cradle.’

      Luned’s face fell, but she sat down obediently with the tangled string.

      Rhonwen breathed a quiet prayer of thanks. Catching Eleyne’s hand, she led her down the stairs and out of the ty hir into the courtyard. They hurried across it to the gatehouse. ‘Down by the river.’ She had to think of some reason for the walk, so that the meeting with Einion would seem an accident. If not, Eleyne would never trust her again. ‘Your father wanted you to see some wild ponies on the hill beyond the village.’

      Eleyne stopped. Her eyes were shining, but she looked puzzled. ‘Why? Why especially tonight?’

      Rhonwen shrugged. ‘Perhaps he wants to catch one for you before they move away over the mountains now he knows how much you love horses. Perhaps he’s noticed how you’re growing. Soon you’ll be too big for Cadi.’ She hustled Eleyne down the track.

      She did not want Einion to have Eleyne, but if the goddess had chosen the child who was she to fight her? Besides, it was better Eleyne stay here in the hills than go to a foreign husband – a man neither of them knew; a man fourteen years the child’s senior. And it would happen. In four years’ time John the Scot, the Earl of Huntingdon, would demand his bride. Rhonwen trembled at the thought of a man touching her child, her baby, mauling her, frightening her, hurting her, using her any way he wished. Almost as much she dreaded the thought that he might seduce her with sweet talk and gentleness, and steal away her loyalty and love. No, that must never happen. Better she be given to the goddess. That way she would remain a virgin; cold, chaste, pure as the silver moon. It was for Eleyne’s good.

      She had never lain with a man herself. Dimly in the far-off recesses of her memory before she and her mother had come to the house of Tangwystl, there had been a man; a man who had pawed and hurt her mother and made her cry before he had turned his attention to the little girl. Rhonwen’s mind had blocked out the rest of what had happened, but it had left her with a loathing and horror of men which she seldom bothered to hide.

      Holding their skirts off the muddy path as they moved out of sight of the llys and through the village, they ducked beneath the tangled trees which grew down the deserted hillsides to where the river ran swiftly over the rocks. The sun had long gone from the deep valley and the air was cold and sharp. Old trees had fallen, rotting, across the river. The air was full of the rich scent of decay. They could feel the chill striking up from the wet boulders in the icy water. Everywhere carpets of moss and lichen clung to tree trunks, to the rocks, and even to the path beneath their feet.

      Eleyne paused and looked round. ‘Rhonwen, we shouldn’t come here. It’s too far from the hall – ’

      ‘I thought you loved the woods and the darkness,’ Rhonwen retorted. ‘I know you manage to slip out sometimes when you think I’m not looking. Besides, what danger could there be?’ She was picking her way over the slippery stones, resisting the urge to take the girl’s hand and pull her on.

      ‘I don’t know.’ The skin at the back of Eleyne’s neck was prickling. ‘There’s something wrong here. Please, Rhonwen, let’s go back. We can come and look at the ponies tomorrow. It’s getting too dark to see them anyway.’

      ‘Only a little further.’ Rhonwen walked on doggedly, praying that Eleyne would follow. The track was soft leafmould here, where the trees grew closer together by the water: alder and birch; hazel, ash and ancient oak, linking branches across the stream.

      Einion was waiting by a bend in the river where the water hurtled over a small waterfall. Wrapped in his black mantle neither of them saw him until they were within a few feet of him. Rhonwen let out a small scream of fright, the sound all but drowned by the rush of water.

      Eleyne stared at the tall man, paralysed with fear as he rose to his feet in front of her.

      ‘Your next lesson, princess, will have to be here, as you are no longer at Llanfaes.’ He held out his hand to her and she took it, unable to stop herself.

      ‘Go.’ He looked over her head at Rhonwen. ‘I shall return her safely at dawn.’

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